


Blow Proud

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Collars, Discipline, Leashes, M/M, Orgy, Tessera, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 24: Orgy.  Dean and Sam visit a BDSM club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blow Proud

**Author's Note:**

> **Mistress Tess and the club Tessera are my original creations, borrowed from a novel I have written, and I hold copyright to them.**
> 
> Disclaimer: Please also note that the use of 'Mistress Tess' is a nickname for my character, and the character is in no way related to, or any representation of the actual Mistress Tess, who I have learned is a beautiful, well respected dominatrix who I had NO idea existed when I conceived of the character a decade ago. :) I'd love to meet her someday.
> 
> I borrowed the characters originally so I could use them as a writing exercise, to see how close I could get the characterization. Then I was corrupted by porn. And kink. Here’s a side of kink. This is simply for practice, not publication or profit. I’m in the hole by about 30 grand, if you’d like to seize my debt as punishment. AU in that I refuse to admit the death of John Winchester.

Dean’s buddy says this place is as safe as they get, but walking into the club is a challenge for Sam, even though he begged to come - he’s only been in one of these places once, and never to play like this.

Dean isn’t quite as worried. He’s holding the leash clipped to the boy’s collar. It’s the only way he agreed to this. Sam doesn’t always think before he speaks or acts, and Dean doesn’t want to have to deal with the fallout in a place like this. There’s a paddle in Sam’s back pocket that Dean will use to deal with any potential transgressions. It’s leather, stings like a motherfucker, but doesn’t really leave bruises, even if someone he’s swinging hard.

Sam’s looking around shyly, and he feels kind of nervous through the little interview with the dominatrix who runs the place. She’d asked, may I, nodding at Sam, and Dean had said yes. The woman had stepped over, brought Sam’s chin up in her hand, making him look at her.

“You’ll obey,” was all she’d said, and he’d blushed and nodded, wondering if she could see that he’d been thinking about trying to push Dean a little. She turned back to his big brother. “I’ll check in with you a couple times.”

“Thanks,” replied Dean, voice easygoing. “Sam. She gives you any orders, you listen to her like you would me, understand?”

A little thrill of fear runs through Sam. “Yes, Dean, I understand,” he says, and Dean gave a sharp tug on the leash that made Sam feel like he’d been sent home from school with an admonitory note from his teacher.

They move from room to room, Dean guiding the younger boy by his arm at times, or with the leash. Sam’s feeling more and more intimidated as they came across scene after scene, pausing to watch some of them, touching one another here and there. Sam had gotten a caress from the dominatrix and some praise, after Dean -with nothing but a hand gesture- commanded Sam to blow him and gotten immediate obedience from the boy. She’d given Dean a compliment, too, telling him the gesture was hot – Dean had grinned in reply, telling her it was one that cops used in training police dogs.

Really, Sam was more than happy to do it, because the room they were in was filled with other subs and slaves giving blow jobs. There was something fucking hot about that – a whole orgy of blow jobs. They were both enjoying themselves, and Sam found he was appreciative of being able to watch the techniques the other subs used to pleasure their doms.

There were a few rooms that Dean wouldn’t let him look into, and finally Sam was frustrated enough to forget himself and put up a protest. He immediately wishes he hadn’t. The dominatrix just happens to choose that moment to check in, and he heard her low laugh as Dean’s eyebrow raised. Sam freezes. Dean holds out his hand, snaps his fingers. Sam swallows hard and produces the paddle, placing it in Dean’s waiting palm.

“Let me show you to my office,” she says, “Do you need a moment? The restroom is just to your left.” Dean nods curtly, and thanks her. Sam’s heart sinks even further when he hands the leash to the woman, walks off. The mistress turns toward the office she’d pointed out. He doesn’t wait for her to take the slack up on the leash. The office is dim, walls hung with swags of dark crimson leather and crushed black velvet. The furnishings are simple, elegant. She points at a leather topped table in the center of the room, ordering the boy to sit, clips the end of the leash to the tiedowns on the table. He obeys without question.

“I’ve been watching the two of you,” she said, and he keeps his eyes on the floor. “Do you understand why you’re here with me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies softly.

“Yes, you do. You don’t disobey, not collared, not in a club. You trust that man on the other end of your leash. I don’t have to ask if you do, because I can see it, boy. You don’t argue with him, when he’s keeping you safe, protecting you. Do you understand me?”

Sam feels tears spring into his eyes. He’s never thought about it like that, about Dean keeping him safe, with the collar on. The collar is a concession he’d made months ago, knowing he can’t control himself from begging Dean to talk, a concession to the fact that sometimes they didn’t need to talk, they just needed to be physical, that he needed to give up control. He’d come to enjoy it, actually, and they’d come out tonight so both of them could have fun. He’s shivering a little, when Dean’s soft knock comes on the door.

“I’d like to supervise,” she says to Dean, “Do you need the use of anything?” Dean gives her one of his dangerous grins, nods. He strides up in front of Sam, paddle in hand.

“What happened there, Sam.”

“I made a mistake. I’m sorry, sir.”

Dean’s expression softeness. “If you made a mistake, maybe I won’t ask the Mistress to tie you down. Do you need that, Sam?”

“No sir.” Sam doesn’t want to be tied down – doesn’t want the pleasure the bondage brings, not after the mistress’s words brought that point sailing home to him. He feels Dean’s gaze sweep over him, assessing him.

“Drop your pants to your knees and lie face down.”

Sam obeys, startled to see his hands shaking. Dean frowns at the tremors. Sam’s really upset. He walks forward to Sam, glances at the mistress.

“Something he can hold onto,” he asks, and she steps over to a mahogany cabinet, situated beside an elegant leather bondage rack. As soon as she’s out of earshot, he bends down to Sam. “Did she hurt you?”

“Nosir.”

“What happened.”

“She pointed out that you were trying to keep me safe,” came the blunt words from Sam, and Dean knew the boy had left the ‘sir’ out, so that Dean would know just where the thoughts were coming from. He puts a comforting hand on Sam’s back, and lays the paddle in front of Sam’s face. The mistress threads a silk scarf through two of the rings on the table, twines Sam’s hands around it. Dean steps back, admiring the fact that the table’s long enough that all of Sam’s long body fits, and exchanges a merry glance with the mistress. He isn’t angry, not after that. The woman has done him a huge favor, getting Sam to make that realization. He brings the paddle cracking down, rapid fire swats turning Sam’s bottom bright red in seconds. Carefully, he observes Sam’s expression, body language as he paddles, until he sees tears streak down the boy’s face. He moves to the head of the table. The kid isn't badly upset, but that paddle stings enough to wrench tears from the recipient.

“I’m going to hold this paddle for the rest of the night, Sam. If you disobey again, I’ll spank you on the spot. Do you understand me?”

“Yessir.” Sam’s voice is as hoarse as if he’s been yelling, even though he hasn’t made a peep through the punishment. Dean feels inordinately proud, wraps an arm around the boy.

“Good boy. If you make another mistake, I’ll paddle both of you, you understand me?” The mistress touches Dean’s shoulder. She unties the scarf, wipes away Sam’s tears, then makes him look up at her. He tries to let the thank you show in his eyes, and she ties the scarf around his waist. “You’ll take your tears home with you, so you can think about it. Meanwhile,” she says, turning to address them both, “If you’d allow me to show you to the oil room? Surely Sam could benefit from learning a massage technique that will take the cramps out of your flogging arm, Dean.”


End file.
